


Give it a Rest

by Ruffiticus (orphan_account)



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Ruffy writes, derelict verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Ruffiticus





	Give it a Rest

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Derelict](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/18040) by PsilentAsInCjelli. 



He knew Sam didn’t like him. He knew Sam didn’t like him, and he knew that Steve probably didn’t care, and he knew that he really shouldn’t even be trying to do this, but…  
Michael sat with the portal gun in his lap, meticulously working to change the colour of the blue portal to something a little more orange. Steve had told him not to try so hard- to take a break when his hand had started to cramp up- but Michael wouldn’t listen; he couldn’t listen. He had to prove himself to Sam- had to prove that he wasn’t a monster that wanted to hurt him. He proceeded to get another hand cramp, the tendons having overlapped due to his insistant speed to cause him immense pain.  
When he had finished, though, he stood and started to walk up to Sam, a timid sort of stutter in his gait. The orange-haired man was talking with Steve, and thus was distracted. Michael didn’t want to interrupt, but Steve pointed him out after he approached. After Sam had turned to give him his stony, mildly pissed off attention, Michael dropped a few inches on his knees and gave a sheepish, hopeful little smile as he offered Sam the gun.  
“It’s got two orange portals- just how you like orange so much,” Michael explained with a careful little smile. He winced when the gun was taken, the change in weight causing his injured hand to move painfully. “I calibrated it for the way your hand moves- er, uh… Not that I watch your hands, or anything, I just—”  
Sam was laughing. He was laughing, but not in the way that implied he was happy with Michael’s work. No, this was a condescending laugh. This was the laugh that bullies give when their victims try to earn their companionship- this was the laugh that an old, bitter man gave a young, brilliant scientist when he tried to make an apology. And it hurt.  
Michael’s face dropped when he saw the look of pure resentment on the older man’s face.  
“Another one?” he asked harshly, equipping the gun to test it. He shot a few portals after warning Steve, and shoved the device back into Michael’s arms roughly. “Needs work. I can’t work it like this.” There was no gratitude in his voice. He didn’t say, ‘Hey, good job, Michael!’ or, ‘Wow, you really did this for me?’ or even, ‘Michael, you hurt yourself to make me this?’ No. He was cold, and angry, and he walked off to sit and probably fall asleep again because he had such an ease with doing that.  
Steve walked over to Michael and put a hand on the latter’s shoulder, which he just shrugged off.  
“I gotta go make some adjustments…”  
And not even three hours later, just after Steve had lain down for rest, Michael could be heard screaming. It took Steve only two minutes to find Michael, as his searing-pain-inducing screaming wasn’t all that hard to track. When he happened upon the scientist, Steve rushed over to his sobbing, shaking form.  
“Michael, are—”  
“I’m fine,” he grunted, hands covering his eyes; Steve noted that his injured hand had started to swell and was now edging on the side of disfigured. “I’m fine I’m fine I’mfinefinefinefine…”  
“Who are you trying to convince, Michael?” Steve asked, his hands trying to find comforting places on Michael’s body (Steve was guessing that he was never the touchy-feely type, for he couldn’t find a configuration that might help ease Michael’s pain).  
“I- I gotta fix it,” he sobbed, going to grab the gun before Steve stopped him.  
“Is this about Sam?” he asked, biting his lip when he got a desperate nod in response.  
“I didn’t do it right, and- And he’ll hate me more if I don’t fix- fix- fix it!” he wailed, apologising profusely when Steve pressed his hands to his ears. Steve cut him a half angry, half sympathetic look which made Michael shut up immediately.  
“Michael, you’re edging on hysteria, you need to calm down,” Steve stated calmly, taking the gun away from Michael’s weak grasp. “Sam is asleep right now, okay? You can work on it when you wake up- right now, what you need is sleep.”  
So Michael nodded and curled up on himself, fixing to not move from the spot he’d been in for the past few hours. He and Steve both knew that he probably wouldn’t get much restful sleep that night, but it was always good to let his systems reset, right?  
Michael was optimistic in that he thought Sam would come around and not hate him soon- thought that he’d be able to prove himself one of these days.


End file.
